While you read this, please imagine an eleven-year-old girl with huge teased hair in gigantic purple clip, lying on the floor with her eyes closed, me standing grumpily over her holding up a textbook from which I have been attempting to induce her to read.
ME: Goody Proctor.
GOODY PROCTOR: …pineapple.
GOODY PROCTOR: <Who lives in a pineapple under the sea? Do you know?>
ME: …that would be Spongebob, Goody Proctor.
GOODY PROCTOR: <Ding ding ding.>
ME: Why Spongebob, Goody Proctor?
GOODY PROCTOR: <Because I love him.> I love Spongebob!
ME: Will you get married?
GOODY PROCTOR: <He’s cute!>
ME: I’m very happy for both of you.